Namo tassa bhagavato arahato sammāsambuddhassa x 3
I revere that Blessed One, that Worthy One, that Perfectly Enlightened One! x 3
This is one of the most common Pāli chants, and today, is often recited as a preliminary passage preceding other chants in ritual settings.
In the suttas, this line is referred to as an "udāna," which may be translated as something like "inspired expression" or "heartfelt utterance." The impression given is that an udāna is something said spontaneously by someone who is deeply moved, which is why we generally see it spoken by someone whose heart has been touched, either by the Buddha himself, or someone spreading his teachings. It is usually accompanied by other acts of reverence, such as touching the ground - a gesture representing one calling upon the earth to witness their unwavering resolve1; ; or rearranging one's robes over the shoulder and joining the palms together - gestures of deference and respect.
As is the case with many of the chants in this section of the website, the suttas record that the Namakāra Udāna was generally recited on its own, despite the fact that it most often appears today as a brief introductory passage followed by other chants.
This sutta tells an interesting story: the great god Sakka wished to ask the Buddha several important questions, but at that time, the Buddha was abosrbed in meditation inside a cave. Sakka supposed that suddenly manifesting right before the Buddha in such a state would be inappropriate; in fact, when Sakka did appear on the mountain which housed the cave retreat, we are told that the entire mountain was lit by a brilliance so bright that people in a village to the south feared the mountain had been consumed by fire. With Sakka's heavenly radiance, as well as his retinue of "the gods of the 33," over whom he is king, it is entirely reasonable that he wished to be more subtle in his approach.
To this end, he recruited Pañcasikha, a "gandhabba" - a lowly class of gods, known for their sensuality and affinity for music. For a gandhabba to be invited to travel with Sakka and the gods of the 33, to see the Buddha, no less, would have been a great honor. His mission was to approach the cave alone, and from a reasonable distance, play a gentle love song to catch the Buddha's attention without being a nuisance. Amidst his romantic lyrics, the gandhabba also sang praises for the Buddha, his teachings, and his monastic order. When he was finished, the Buddha complimented him, and they began conversing with one another. Sakka, seeing his plan had worked, took the opportunity to approach with his retinue. After some formalities and back-and-forth exchanges of pleasantries, Sakka received the answers he sought. Delighted, Sakka remarked that the closest joy he had ever felt came from emerging victorious over the asuras in battle; having just heard the Buddha's profound teachings, however, he realized that joy derived from "the rod and the sword" pales in comparison to that which arises from comprehending the Buddha's doctrine, since it leads to peace.
He praised the Buddha with a number of verses before turning to Pañcasikha; as a reward for a job well-done, he appointed the gandhabba as king of his kind, and promised to arrange the marriage between him and the subject of his love song, Bhaddā Suriyavaccasā. Sakka then touched the ground and recited the Namakāra Udāna three times.
While riding in a chariot, a Brahmin named Jānussoni met a wanderer named Pilotika, and asked where he was coming from. Pilotika responded, "I have just been to see the ascetic Gautama," and when Jānussoni asked for the man's opinion on the Buddha, he replied, "Who am I to judge? One would need to be on his level to make such a judgment." Jānussoni said, "You give him lavish praise, in that case!" Pilotika once again deflected, saying, "Who am I to praise him? He is praised by gods and men alike, those who are themselves given lavish praise." Jānussoni asked one more question: "Why are you this devoted to the ascetic Gautama?"
Pilotika declared that he had seen "four footprints" of the Buddha: he had witnessed how 1) khattiyas (members of the warrior/ noble class); 2) brahmins (members of the priestly class); 3) householders (common citizens with property and families); and 4) ascetics have all sought out the Buddha to best him in debates, but often wind up converting and becoming disciples instead. After hearing this, Jānussoni got down from his chariot, arranged his robes over his shoulder, joined his palms together in the Buddha's direction, and recited the Namakāra Udāna. He then walked over to the Buddha, who was staying in a nearby monastery, and related what he had just heard from Pilotika.
The Buddha then declared that he would expand on Pilotika's "incomplete" footprint simile, and used that framing to deliver a teaching to the Brahmin. When he finished, Jānussoni exclaimed that the way the Buddha taught so clearly was like he had: 1) turned over something which had been flipped upside down; 2) revealed something that had been hidden; 3) guided someone lost back to the path; 4) lit a lamp in the dark. This is a stock phrase that appears frequently in the suttas, and going forward, I will simply call it "the lamp pericope." After this, he recited an early version of the tisarana, or "triple refuge" chant - something which will be discussed on its own dedicated page. Going forward, I will simply call this "the early tisarana formula." Finally, he declared his wish for the Buddha to remember him as a lay disciple who has "gone for refuge" for the rest of his life.
King Pasenadi caught word of an incident involving the Buddha which troubled him. In short, a man's child had died, and he was so overcome with grief that he stopped working and eating. All he did was walk to the charnel grounds and cried out, "Where have you gone? My only child! Where are you?" This man approached the Buddha, who told him bluntly that he had gone mad. In response, the man retorted, "How could I not be mad? My one and only child has died!" "So it is," said the Buddha, "our loved ones are a cause for grief, lamentation, suffering, distress, and trouble." This shocked the man. "Truly, who would say that?! Our loved ones bring us joy and happiness!" He left, approached some nearby gamblers who had been shooting dice, and vented about what had just happened. Gossip spread, as it does, and this is how the king learned about this interaction.
It just so happened that the king's wife, Queen Mallika, was a devoted laywoman who was faithful to the Buddha. Knowing this, the king pressed her on the issue, though all she had to say was, "If the Blessed One said so, then it is so." This enraged the king. "You blindly accept anything he says! Begone, go away!"
She asked a Brahmin named Nālijangha to visit the Buddha on her behalf, pay respects in her name, and ask him if the rumor was true. The Buddha confirmed that he did, indeed, say that to the grieving man, and proceeded to relay many different stories involving locals who had similarly gone mad as a result of losing their loved ones, ending with a story about a woman whose family tried to divorce her from her husband in order to wed her to another man, ultimately leading to her husband killing her and himself in a murder-suicide, foolishly believing they'd be together in the afterlife.
Nālijangha returned to the queen and told her all of this. This emboldened her to approach the king and attempt to make him understand what the Buddha meant when he said that our loved ones are a cause for suffering. "Tell me, great king - you love Princess Vajirī, don't you? If she were to die, would you experience grief, lamentation, suffering, distress, and trouble?" "Oh, if she were to die, my little girl, my life would turn upside down. How could I not feel those things?" "Precisely," said the queen, "and that is what the Blessed One meant! And what about Lady Vāsabhā, your second wife? Or your son, General Vidūdabha? What about me?" The king admitted that, in each case, he would be devastated at the loss of his loved ones.
She continued. "Now tell me, king - don't you love your realms? The conquered territory of Kāsi as well as Kosala, your home?" "Certainly - it is thanks to the majesty of our kingdoms that we have Kāsi sandalwood and adorn ourselves with garlands, perfumes, and cosmetics." "If these realms fell, would you experience grief, lamentation, suffering, distress, and trouble?" This line of inquiry played out in just the same way, and finally, the king understood why the Buddha said what he did. "Wonderful, Mallikā, marvelous! It is now evident to me how thoroughly the Blessed One sees with wisdom. Won't you rinse my hands?" When she had done so, the king got up, arranged his robe over his shoulder, joined his palms together in the Buddha's direction, and recited the Namakāra Udāna.
An old, beloved Brahmin named Brahmāyu learned that the Buddha was wandering in the area. He knew the Buddha had a good reputation, celebrated for having nine outstanding qualities - represented by the stock "Buddhānussati" (Buddha-recollection) formula, which is itself recited as a chant by Buddhists, in addition to two other formulas similarly celebrating the doctrine and the monastic community. He called for his student, Uttara, and told him to seek out the Buddha and determine if the reputation was deserved. "How can I determine this?" "Our hymns tell of the Mahāpurisa (Great Man) - if this ascetic Gautama is truly a Buddha, his body will have 32 distinct marks. A child born with these marks has one of two fates - he will become a divine king, or an enlightened sage. Therefore, if the Buddha truly lives up to his reputation, he will bear the marks of the Mahāpurisa."
Uttara caught up with the Buddha, introduced himself, and sat down beside him. He then began looking over the Buddha's body, trying to inspect it for the 32 Marks. The Buddha knew right away what was going on, and as such, knew that Uttara would be unable to see two marks in particular2 ; he revealed them, and Uttara became convinced that this man was, indeed, a Mahāpurisa. The next stage of his mission involved following the Buddha for seven long months in order to become intimately familiar with the Buddha and his behaviors. Finally, he returned to his teacher Brahmāyu to report what he had learned: "He lives up to his reputation, sir. Truthfully, he surpasses it!" After being told about the Buddha's marks, and his constantly composed behavior, Brahmāyu immediately rose up, rearranged his robe over his shoulder, joined his palms together in the Buddha's direction, and recited the Namakāra Udāna. "Perhaps I'll be able to meet him and have a conversation." The opportunity presented itself some time later when the Buddha arrived in the city, and a great many people went to go see him. In brief: the Brahmin went, paid his respects, and by the end of their interaction, declared himself a lay convert by speaking the lamp pericope and reciting the early tisarana formula.
For the next week, the Brahmin, now a faithful disciple, held large meal offerings for the Buddha and his monks. We are told that Brahmāyu died shortly after the Buddha left the city. Several curious monks asked where he had been reborn. The Buddha revealed that the Brahmin's short time as a devout layman saw him reborn in a remarkably high state of existence: he had become a "non-returner" (anāgāmī), meaning he was reborn spontaneously, fully-formed in one of the heavenly realms called the "Pure Abodes" (Suddhāvāsa). He would never again be reborn in the lower realms, and would eventually attain enlightenment in the Pure Abodes.
In this amusing sutta, a Brahmin lady named Dhanañjānī - a lay disciple of the Buddha - stumbled, and reflexively recited the Namakāra Udāna, in much the same way one might say "oh, bless me!" A 16-year-old Brahmin student overheard this, and was outraged that a high-born Brahmin woman would allow herself to speak the praises of "that skinhead, that worthless ascetic." In response, she said, "If you knew the extent of the Buddha's ethical character and wisdom, you wouldn't say such things about him." "In that case," he replied, "let me know whenever this teachers comes here again."
In short: he eventually went to speak with the Buddha, and saw what Dhanañjānī had already known: the Buddha has established his teachings through direct insight, and not by relying on tradition or engaging in theoretical speculation. He formally converted by speaking the lamp pericope and reciting the early tisarana formula.
The Dhanañjānī Sutta (SN 7.1) records a remarkably similar story featuring a woman with the same name whose husband gets angry after she trips and recites the Namakāra Udāna. It's difficult to say for certain whether or not the Dhanañjānī of one text is the same as the other.
The Brahmin Ārāmadanda asked the Venerable Mahākaccāna why the different classes of people fight among themselves. "The reason," the monk answered, "is because of their attachment to sensual desire." Next, the Brahmin asked why religious wanderers also fight among themselves. "In that case, it is because of their attachment to views." In response to this, Ārāmadanda asked earnestly, "Is there anyone who has surpassed those causes for conflict?" "Yes," the monk answered. "To the east, in the city of Sāvatthī, the Blessed One resides; he has surpassed those causes for conflict." The Brahmin got up, rearranged his robe over his shoulder, joined his palms in the Buddha's direction, and recited the Namakāra Udāna. He then declared himself a lay disciple by way of the lamp pericope and the early tisarana formula.
This sutta records a story much like the one in MN 27: the Brahmin Kāranapālī saw the Brahmin Pingiyānī walking, and asked where he was coming from. Pingiyānī said he had been to see the ascetic Gautama. Pingiyānī proclaimed that the Buddha's teaching causes joy and happiness to arise such that one cannot help but become disenchanted with the teachings of rival traditions. This inspired Kāranapālī to get up, rearrange his robe over his shoulder, kneel on his right knee, and join his palms in the Buddha's direction. He recited the Namakāra Udāna and declared his conversion with the lamp pericope and the early tisarana formula.
Notes
[1] Piya Tan, SD 54.8
[2] I have avoided going into details here because doing so necessitates a long tangent that would only distract from the topic at hand. If you're interested, see this essay about the topic of the Mahāpurisa. Spoiler: it involves a penis.
Bibliography
[1] Tan, Piya : SD 54.8 - "Sakkapañha Sutta"